Along These Lonely Roads of Broken Dreams I Travel
by ShadyDeadMan
Summary: Ryan returns home from the Capitol Wasteland only to find much has changed and soon his skills as a soldier, mercenary and assassin will be put to the test, but will he fight for the highest bidder or will it be personal.
1. Chapter 1

Ryan James Sinclair is a mercenary and soldier. He's a hunter and assassin. He's a gambler and ladies man who likes taking risks for big paydays. He travelled for awhile, albeit shortly with the Lone Wanderer from Vault 101, but he had an offer he couldn't refuse from a shady character that remains nameless. The deed is done and he now travels home to make amends with his parents and family, when he arrives he soon realises that things never really change and finds himself in the middle of a raging war between crime bosses in the crime riddled city of Eden Falls. Whose side will he take in the slaughter that will undoubtedly follow, will he be just another gun for hire to the highest bidder, or is this going to get personal. The story begins as he makes his way home, relieved to finally be back, but all is not what it seems and it is just a matter of time before he his dragged into a war that will change his life forever.

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_**Along These Lonely Roads of Broken Dreams I Travel**_

_**Chapter1: Going Home**_

'Rykers Crossing – 27 Kilometres, Eden Falls – 54 Kilometres, Little Hampton – 3 Kilometres.' Ryan read the painted signpost, squinting through narrow slits with his hand over his eyes as he tried to shield his face from the merciless noonday heat. The words were daubed over a white painted background in thick red letters. He let his sunglasses drop down onto his nose, a welcome relief from the glare. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old rag, wiping it over his sweat soaked face and neck.

He lifted his backpack off his shoulders, relieved at having shed the sixty pounds of weight that he was carrying with him. He placed his assault rifle next to the backpack, then took his sniper rifle from his shoulder and placed that on the ground. He carried in total 12 water flasks, six were empty, four contained water and two contained whiskey. He took one of the water flasks and unscrewed the top. He took a long refreshing gulp of water and placed the top back on the flask. He stretched his aching limbs and then sat down at the side of the empty road next to everything he owned in the world and was determined to relax for just a little while.

He thought about taking off his boots, but getting them back on could prove troublesome considering how much his feet had ached for at least the last fifty kilometres of his journey. He rummaged around in his food sack which was becoming dangerously empty. He could only hope there was food to buy at his next stop. He took a slice of mouldy bread and a block of cheese that had gone a troubling shade of green. But food was food and there was precious little else to eat out here on the highway. He took a bite out of the bread and then bit off a piece of cheese, savouring the taste and imagining it was food fit for a prince.

That was a damn joke, prince of nothing out here in this bloody wasteland. All he could expect were gangs of raiders who would likely beat the life out of you, rape you, skin you, and eat you. There were the slaver caravans who were always on the lookout for seemingly helpless wastelanders to sell to the highest bidder. Those worth anything would end up in Eden Falls, the nearest thing this part of the wasteland had to a city. They would be sold to the whore houses and anyone looking for a bright young thing to keep them warm at night. Luckily super mutant activity had lessened in the area over recent years. Nobody ever wanted a run in with those psychotic freaks.

The ever so holier than thou Brotherhood of Steel were as rare as rocking horse shit in this part of the wastes, and many were glad for small mercies. The last thing the crime families of Eden Falls wanted was to have the interfering do-gooders of the BOS sticking there noses where they weren't wanted. There were always the tribals, unpredictable and deadly when they were out in force. There were all manner of criminal types, it was hardly surprising considering the kind of place Eden Falls was and the fact that every piece of trash and scum in the wasteland was either going there or coming from there to carry out whatever nefarious deeds took their fancy.

Another growing problem was the increase in wild critters in recent years. This damn area had become something of a hunting ground for all manner of scary bastard creatures. The deathclaws were by far the worst, you just had to hope they didn't get your scent or you were in for one hell of a battle, and if they were in a pack then you really were up shit creek without a paddle. But the most likely were packs of wild dogs, wolves and molerats, all dangerous when there was enough of them. But at least they provided food out here in the wastes, if you were good enough to kill them that is.

The Enclave was seen occasionally, but they seemed to keep a fairly low profile. The only ones who really had any dealings with them were the crime bosses in Eden Falls. The bosses supplied them with all manner of goods and the enclave got access to weapons technology and medicine. Already their was a lot of competition to create new designer drugs and trade in high tech weapons was big business for the crime families who were always trying to get one over on their rivals.

Ryan wondered what the city would be like now. It had been years since his last visit, twelve years to be precise. He had been just a young man then, setting out on his journey to god knows where. He wondered what life would be like in Rykers Crossing, his home town. For now all he could do was think about what lay ahead. But it wouldn't be long now. He had spent months walking home and finally it was within spitting distance. He looked forward to seeing his ma and pa. He looked forward to seeing his older brother Verne and his growing family. He hadn't seen them for twelve years but just knew there would be new additions to the Sinclair household. And what about young Lillith, his younger sister who was just a child when he left, she would be a young woman now.

He thought for a moment, should he travel the rest of the day without stopping and try to reach home by tonight. The other option was to stop off in Little Hampton and rest up for the night. It was a long time since he had passed through the small town but they did have a few saloons, flop houses and more importantly a bath house with female attendants. Now that sounded just great to Ryan, months on the road with barely a village every hundred kilometres or more. It had been hell, and he had cause to fight for his life on more than one occasion. But that was simply the nature of the beast. The wasteland was no place for the weak or the meek. It was kill or be killed, plain and simple. He fiddled with the pistols in their holsters and adjusted his ammo belts so they didn't quite dig into his flesh so much. He examined his auto shotgun packed onto the outside of his backpack, making sure it was available for close encounters. There was nothing like a few shotgun blasts to clear the way through a pack of mean critters.

His binoculars hung around his neck. He took a hold of them and scanned the horizon in every direction. There was no sign of life whatsoever. It had been the same for most of the journey. It was just arid scrubland for miles around. He could only hope the settlements around here had fared better. He finished off the bread and cheese, happy at least to have at least something in his stomach. He lay back, resting his head on the backpack. He felt tired enough to sleep, but that was too dangerous to even contemplate. It would take less than an hour to reach Little Hampton, and he could finally get a hot bath, a warm meal and a comfortable bed. At least he hoped he could, twelve years had gone by. Small towns had a habit of becoming ghost towns in the wastes.

Half an hour later he was ready to move. He packed everything up, careful not to leave anything behind. Immediately he felt the weight of the backpack pulling him down. He would be glad when he could finally unpack and make himself at home. One thing that did still worry him was how he would be greeted after all these years. What if the town had been abandoned? What if his parents were dead? He had left under something of a dark cloud, what would their reaction be seeing him after all these years? He couldn't help but hope for the best yet fear the worst; such was the way since he left home.

The sun beating down on him he took a step forward and then another until he once again took up that same old stride that had seen him travel across half of America and back. He took out a pack of roll ups from his pocket and placed one in his mouth, lighting it and blowing out a mouthful of smoke. It was potent stuff, he had paid twenty caps for twenty roll ups, each one guaranteed to lift your mood and make you relax until all your problems were a distant memory. In minutes his long stride had become a much gentler stroll and for all the world he couldn't work out why he was laughing to himself, not quiet laughter but gut wrenching, teary eyed laughter that brought him to a sudden stop before he had even gone more than a few hundred metres. His head swam, his sight blurred until the sky appeared to have an unwashed tint of yellow and green, creating a dirty haze through which the relentless rays of the sun shone down on him. He picked up his pace again, still chuckling to himself about nothing in particular.

He imagined reaching Little Hampton and lying down in a hot soapy tub. A young female attendant would be washing his back while he whistled to himself and drank a nice cold bottle of beer. And if that wasn't going to happen he would settle for a comfy bed and sleep the night away so he was fresh for the journey home in the morning. He would be thirty three in two weeks and four days. He had wanted to get home for his birthday and had made excellent time, easily reaching his destination with weeks to go.

That last contract had been shear hell and he was glad to be out of it. It had earned him enough caps to get the hell out of there while he still could and put as much distance between himself and Washington DC as possible. Miss Vault 101 had been something of an inspiration, and also a bullet magnet that attracted trouble wherever she went. But her fight wasn't his. They played on opposite sides of the track. When the hit had been arranged on Alistair Tenpenney, and the twenty thousand caps had been paid, Ryan had done the job and left it all behind. He still saw the old man sat on his balcony, the .50 calibre round blowing a hole clean through his head. Whoever wanted him dead was willing to pay enough for Ryan to simply disappear for awhile, or for good. He had no intention of returning to the Capitol Wasteland.

He wondered what life would be like if he could simply fit back in with his family in Rykers Crossing. What would he do now? The family business was farming, looking after the crops and the Brahmin. He really couldn't see himself being content with that. Maybe he could open up his own saloon, although he would probably drink all the profits. He took out an old photograph, taken six months before he left. It showed his mother and father, his brother and his brother's wife Rena and their three children, and his younger sister Lillith, always up to mischief. He treasured the memory fondly and smiled to himself as he imagined hugging them all, he had to pinch himself to remind him they were only a day away.

The hour passed without event and soon he was looking on the small town of Little Hampton. The sign read 'Population 238, Brahmin 546, Pigs 817, Horses 34, Chickens 1259, Dogs 48' displayed proudly in the same red paint he had seen on the sign earlier with obvious signs that it had been changed many times to reflect the true number, although why they wanted to display their animal population he had no idea. The buildings were typically ramshackle, there had been a very small village here hundreds of years ago and the old houses still stood, albeit in a very decrepit state of ruin and disrepair. Dozens of them had been built around the old wooden manor houses. Before he had even had chance to enter the town he was approached by a party of six men, all carrying guns. He sighed and walked forward, here we go again he thought, more trigger happy locals with guns, will it never end.


	2. Chapter 2

Falloutfan61 – Thanks for the review. I see what you mean about the things you mentioned. I'll try to sort it out for this chapter. And an old western is definitely the kind of story I'm trying to write, albeit one set in the future.

Michael – Thanks for the review.

_**Chapter 2: Welcome to Little Hampton**_

Ryan studied the men carefully. At the front was a tall man, well over six foot six, a thick neatly trimmed black beard masking his tired worn face, lined and creased like a city road map. He wore a wide brimmed black hat and black long leather coat, which seemed to be almost regulation uniform for local law enforcement such as regulators in these small towns. He wore two holstered pistols and carried an automatic shotgun like a man who was used to having to use it too often. The others were all similarly attired and all wore silver stars. Ryan had seen this a thousand times before.

Small towns like Little Hampton were like carbon copies of the last place he had visited. For just a moment he looked up, his attention suddenly grabbed by something he had failed to notice earlier. A small hill on the other side of town with a long wooden frame used for hanging people, perhaps big enough to hang six or more at the same time. The grizzly sight of three lifeless bodies hanging by their necks met his gaze. Before he had time to react or decide what to do next, the men were stood in front of him.

"Sven Thorsten's the name. I'm sheriff of Little Hampton and these men are my deputies." The man said in a hoarse no nonsense manner that Ryan could easily understand.

"Ryan Sinclair." He replied casually, almost like he knew the man.

"Well Mr Sinclair, if you're intending to enter our town, there are a few rules you should know first."

"Ok, Sheriff Thorsten, I've got no problem with your rules."

"You haven't heard them yet. Firstly all guns, blades, other assorted weapons and ammunition are to be checked in at my office before you go anywhere else in town. You will be given a receipt with the corresponding locker number on it. When and only when you are ready to leave town will your property be returned to you. All weapons are to be emptied before entering town and not reloaded until after you are out of the town's boundary.

While in the town you will conduct yourself in a manner befitting a person that we would consider to be of a gentlemanly nature. In other words, no drunkenness, no drug use, no nakedness in public view, , no lewd behaviour, no foul language used while talking to the town's citizens or out loud to yourself if you are so inclined. You will commit no act of aggression while in town, if you are provoked you should use only minimal force required to defend yourself. We will deal with the perpetrator of the assault. Quite simply thieves are hung until they are dead. Times are rough for all of us and having low life thieving vermin robbing our good citizens will never be tolerated. As you can plainly see displayed by those who would break our laws on Hangman's Hill. Make no mistake; this is a peaceful and welcoming little town to those who know how to behave themselves correctly. To those who flout our laws and disrespect our people, there will be severe consequences.

There should be no problems regarding monetary transactions if you have sufficient funds to pay for the services you require. All transactions are to be carried out using pre-war American dollars, or New Eden Dollars. Caps are no longer used or legal currency."

"I just want a bath and a bed for the night, sheriff. Maybe I'll visit one of the saloons but I'll be careful not to get into any trouble."

"Well trouble just follows some folk. Make sure you aren't one of them. We'll escort you to my office where your weapons will be unloaded and securely locked away. Then you are free to conduct any legal business you have in Little Hampton."

"What did they do?" Ryan asked and pointed to the three hung men.

"They stole, butchered and ate a prized pig."

"I guess they got what they deserved then."

"That's right. Although in my opinion hanging is too good for common thieves. But the mayor and town council reckon it's sufficient to deal with the scum, so we abide by their ruling. I'm glad to see your not one of those weak willed liberal minded types with no sense of what real justice involves. A slap on the wrist just attracts more villainous scum and before you know it you've got an epidemic of crime on your hands. But what can you expect when you've got such a massive hive of criminal scum and villainy not more than fifty kilometres away. To hear them talk you would think they are the centre of civilization in these here parts. In reality Eden Falls is the biggest cesspit of humanity for hundreds of miles around. I hope you'll do yourself a favour boy and stay away from that godforsaken hell hole."

"I had no plans on visiting the city, sheriff. I'm just on my way home to Rykers Crossing to see my folks."

"Rykers Crossing you say. You wouldn't be any relation to old Joshua Sinclair would you?"

"He's my father."

"He trades with Little Hampton, sells his crops here in return for livestock. Although we haven't seen him in must be six months or more, hope the old fellow is alright."

"It's good to hear he's still alive, I haven't seen my family in over twelve years. I've been doing a lot of travelling."

"I won't ask your business, but you look like some kind of mercenary, all armed to the teeth like you are."

"I know how to take care of myself, sheriff."

"Well Little Hampton is a quiet and friendly place. We'd like to keep it that way."

"No problem, sheriff. You won't get any trouble from me."

_x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Ten minutes later Ryan stood in the spacious Sheriff's Office feeling as naked as a new born baby without the comforting and ever present familiar feel of his weapons. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been stripped of his weapons, and the feeling was not at all welcome. Even his trusty hunting knife had been locked away. Their reasoning being he'd have no use for it in such a civilized community as Little Hampton, he'd heard that one before. He took a slow careful look at his surroundings. It looked like each deputy had his own small office, judging by how they all disappeared into one of the rooms leading off the Sheriff's reception area.

He'd handed his weapons over to an old timer who must have been in his seventies, went by the name of Ned. The old man was tall and gangly and had a familiar look to him. It took several minutes to realize that he was probably related to the Sheriff. They had that same tough square jawed look about them. The same intense stare that felt like it was gazing into your soul looking for all the wrongs you had ever committed.

"There's you're receipt, Mr. Sinclair. I hope for all our sakes you have a pleasant and quiet visit to our friendly little town." Ryan took the receipt and pocketed it after checking everything was ok. He gave a brief smile to old Ned and took a long look at the many posters adorning the wall with the faces of wanted men, and even a few women. He had been a bounty hunter during his day, a damn good one until he fell for a woman he was hunting. But that was a story for another day, even thinking about it after all these years still hurt bitterly.

"Ugly bunch of criminal trash ain't they?" Ned questioned followed by a quiet laugh.

"That's a lot of criminals for one small town." Ryan replied taking in the wall to wall decorations, there must have been as many people on the wall as there were in the town."

"That's what comes from living near Eden Falls. Every village, outpost, town and city for hundreds of miles feels the full impact of having those scum on our doorsteps. That's why we've got twelve deputies and a sheriff in a small town like Little Hampton. Not to mention the Federal Marshall Jack Bridges from the NCR, just across the street. If you have any business concerning the NCR, he's the man to speak to. Don't waste his time though. He's a busy man, has a lot of patience but every man's got his limits." Ned explained taking a long puff on an old finely crafted wooden long pipe.

"The NCR? They seem to get everywhere these days."

"Word is they are fixed on setting up some sort of outpost here in Little Hampton and some of the larger towns and villages here abouts."

"Anyone would think they are trying to rebuild the old country."

"I don't suppose it will do any harm to the town. If it brings in business then it can't be all bad, right?"

"I suppose your right, Ned. Anyway it's been good to meet you all but I need a good long bath and a fresh set of clothes. Where in town might I be able to pick up some new clothes? It doesn't have to be anything too fancy, just something comfortable. I've been in this travelling gear for weeks now without so much as a bath, shave or fresh clothing."

"If you turn right out of this office, walk about a hundred metres down and it's on your left hand side. It's a place called Arthur and Dorothy's Clothing Emporium. It's a big name for a little store. Watch out for those pair, brother and sister partnership. They can be all kinds of too familiar, you'd be surprised by the amount of complaints we get about them. Nothing serious, you'll see what I mean when you visit them.

As for the bath house, there's a few in town. It depends what you're after. The Sheriff likes to keep things from getting too sordid in town so don't expect any topless bath hostesses or that kind of thing. If that's what your looking for, go to Eden Falls, you'll find sin aplenty in that place. It's like there's no more room in hell and all the sinners have occupied Eden Falls, you'll know what I mean if you ever visit the place. I'd try Delores's Bath House, they do baths, haircuts and shaves, and she'll take a shine to a strong good looking young man like yourself."

"What about the local saloon?"

"There are three in Little Hampton. First off you've got Maria's Place, more of a restaurant than a saloon, and they only serve wine. There's the Silver Dollar Saloon, that's the busiest place in town and the most rowdy. It's popular with the farmers, ranch hands, gamblers and prospectors from around the area, sometimes might get two hundred people packed tightly into that place. As you can imagine it has its share of trouble but usually nothing too bad, and they serve beer and spirits in plastic glasses, cuts town on bar room injuries. Lastly there's Mitch's Dancing Hall. It's mostly a family place with shows for the kids and a boisterous but friendly atmosphere. Weekends it fills up with heavy drinkers hoping to get a look at the burlesque girls. Upstairs is a private, invitation only gambling club. Lots of meetings go on up there between some very serious people. I'd like to be a fly on the wall in that place." Ned explained enthusiastically, like he'd gone through this particular routine and conversation thousands of times before.

"It sounds interesting. I'll have to take a look when I get a chance. I suppose lastly, would be a place you'd recommend to stay for the night."

"There's no shortage there. We've got more than twenty hotels in Little Hampton, and a dozen flop houses. That's what comes from being a day's travel from Eden Falls. It has its good points. Where should you stay? I'd say go for my brother Ed and his wife Enid's place, simply called Ed and Enid's. It won't cost you the earth and it's clean and comfortable and they serve excellent mole rat stew, or savouried iguana. It's down across the street from the Clothing Emporium, quiet part of town if you're looking to get an early sleep. If you decide to go there, tell them Ned sent you."

"I'll do that. Thanks, Ned, you've been very helpful."

"No problem, just stay out of trouble and have a good stay."

"Will do. See you later, Ned." Ryan put his sun glasses back on and walked out into the blazing midday sun. His backpack weighed heavily on him, even though he was missing his weapons and ammunition. Firstly would be somewhere to stay and somewhere he could store his gear. He looked around the busy bustling street and headed in the direction of Ed and Enid's Place, finally after weeks on the road, things were beginning to look up.


End file.
